


Time Present, Time Past

by wingedthing



Category: Warcraft, World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, Jaina's rich fantasy life, Masturbation, sex with dragons in human form
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:39:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedthing/pseuds/wingedthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four moments in Jaina's life that tie her to the past and one moment that eases her into the future. Because I like that format.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Present, Time Past

**Author's Note:**

> In theory, I don't ship Jaina with anyone, so writing these was an interesting exercise for me. I like her existing independent of the influence of anyone else, but I also like exploring things that I haven't seen explored, and I've yet to see much fic about the dynamic between Jaina and Kalecgos. And this just sort of-- exploded from there.
> 
> Semi-AU just because I don't have my Warcraft books near me to crosscheck references from WoWPedia. Enjoy.

1.

She couldn't deny that Kael'thas was handsome, but then again, it sometimes felt like all Quel'dorei were, with their long, lithe figures; their high cheekbones; their bright blue eyes. Kael'thas seemed to surpass them all, however, and what else would she expect of a prince? He bore himself with an undeniable regality that intimidated her, turning her from Antonidas' pupil to a gawking teenager who could barely string together three words of Common.

Despite this, the prince of the Quel'dorei had taken a shine to her for whatever reason. He sought out her company, talked to her, laughed with her, and sometimes almost seemed like any other student of Dalaran rather than the prince he was. Jaina couldn't say what it was about her in particular that caused Kael'thas to let down his guard, only that she didn't mind it and at times, she'd wondered if they had something more.

He never made a move, however, and when she thought about it logically (as she grew from that gawking teenager into a devoted student of the arcane), she began to understand that it would never work. Their cultures were so different, despite how relatable he was, and he was so much older--not merely years or even decades but centuries. He was still beautiful, but he made a better friend.

Jaina left it at that.

So of course, she was surprised when Kael'thas didn't. He found her studying one evening and asked if they could take a walk, and though it meant falling behind her own schedule, Jaina's neck and eyes ached from her work, and so she agreed. Kael'thas led her through Dalaran's winding pathways to a balcony overlooking Lordamere Lake, all purple and gold in a brilliant sunset. Even Jaina, who had seen the lake in such a state many times before, was taken aback and let out a quiet sigh.

"Isn't it magnificent?" Kael'thas asked. Jaina noted that his voice carried an almost unnoticeable tremor when he spoke, though she thought nothing of it. "I didn't think it was fair that you should be cooped up inside studying during a sunset like this."

Jaina laughed. "Fair or not, I can't afford to fall _too_ far behind," she pointed out, though quickly added, "But you're right. It really is beautiful. Thank you for thinking of me, Kael."

His grin was almost as brilliant as the sunset. "Of course," he murmured, and after a hesitation, he added, "You know, it's said that the sunsets in Quel'thalas are unmatched in beauty."

"And who says that?" Jaina asked, laughing again. "Besides the prince of Quel'thalas."

"Everyone!" Kael'thas was laughing as well, though his laughter was far higher pitched than usual. "Diplomats, humans, elves--even trolls, I've heard, though Light only knows if they're capable of appreciating true beauty when they see it." He looked down at Jaina and grinned, and she smiled back.

"Maybe someday I'll go and see these sunsets for myself," she said.

"You'd fit in perfectly with the beauty of Quel'thalas," Kael'thas answered with barely a moment's hesitation. His grin was almost boyish now, cunning in a way that Jaina hadn't seen before. "The magic there is so rich and thick, too--the air practically sings with it. You'd scarcely believe it, Jaina, but it's real. And--" The hesitation returned, but only for as long as it took Kael'thas to take Jaina's hands in his. "--I would be honored if you would return with me someday."

Jaina barely heard his request, too distracted initially by the feeling of the elf prince's hands. They dwarfed her hands, which fit entirely in his palms and would have, even if she had splayed her fingers as widely as she could. They were soft, the hands of a scholar, not of a warrior. Only his fingertips were really calloused, but that was common for mages and was true of her hands as well.

His thumbs grazed across the backs of her hands. "Jaina, did you hear me?" Kael'thas asked.

A guilty flush crept into Jaina's cheeks. "Sorry! I'm sorry, Kael," she said, and then asked, "Are you inviting me back to Quel'thalas with you?"

Kael'thas' smile returned, broader than ever. "I am," he said. One hand left Jaina's to rest at her waist, and again she marveled at the size of it; his pinkie rested at her hips while his thumb almost reached the base of her neck. "Will you do me the honor of accepting?"

Their renewed proximity only made it harder to think straight, and Jaina hated the confusion her racing emotions caused. If not for the proximity, she might have responded with something cute and clever, but as it was, she could barely manage to squeak out, "Why me?"

"Why you? Jaina..." Kael'thas didn't even bother finishing the sentence, letting Jaina's hands fall as he reached up to tilt her face towards his and pull her in for a lingering kiss.

His lips were as soft as his hands and tasted sweet, almost fruity. His centuries of experience were apparent in the deft way he brushed a few blonde strands from her face and eased her closer against him, in the way he barely reacted when her hands clung to his robes partly for balance and partly for something unnamed, in the light brush of his tongue against hers that sent shivers down her spine. To all intents and purposes, it was a perfect kiss.

Despite this, Jaina wasn't thinking of Kael'thas, even as his kiss took her breath away. Someone else occupied her thoughts, someone who'd stolen her first kiss years before and might have been watching Dalaran from just across Lordamere Lake at that moment.

Kael'thas was beautiful, and she liked him well enough, but he wasn't Arthas.

A litany of further objections followed this first: her studies, her apprenticeship, her future. The prince of Lordaeron merely served as the catalyst, so that when she pulled back from Kael'thas, Jaina smiled and declined his proposal.

 

 

2.

The stolen moments were the most bittersweet, but then, every moment they shared of late was stolen. Between Jaina's studies and Arthas' duties to the crown, they had so little time for just the two of them that when those moments did arise, nothing was wasted. Every kiss, every grazing of fingertips, every sigh was full of intent and used to further their intimacy until they eventually slept in each other's arms.

Today was no different. Jaina should have felt more annoyed when she heard the tearing of cloth that could only have come from her new robes, but the way Arthas' thumbs pressed on the skin of her inner thighs banished any other thoughts she might have had in the moment.

And anyway, she'd make him pay for defiling what were technically the Kirin Tor's robes later.

His lips were all over her body, against her neck and collarbone, her shoulders, her cheeks and her mouth again, his hunger for the taste of her skin seemingly endless; but Jaina was entirely his match in that vein, smiling to herself when she heard Arthas' gasp of surprise as she bit down and tugged on his lower lip, pulling him back to her when he'd begun to move away.

The sunset reflected through Arthas' bedroom window, washing both of them in brilliant shades of copper and gold, blinding them to all but each other. Jaina closed her eyes against the brilliance, letting her head fall back as Arthas' fingers, strong and calloused from years of comfortably wrapping around the hilt of a sword, fumbled with the front of her robe. The prince paused to laugh away his annoyance that the Kirin Tor's ideal robe design involved so many hooks and ties and buttons, and Jaina laughed as well, guiding Arthas' hands to the integral pieces that held the robe in place until they'd all been undone. His hands then swept upwards from those pieces to her shoulders, sliding the robe away and grazing down to her waist as his lips and tongue nipped a trail of gooseflesh from her neck to her breasts.

Arthas' touch alone stirred much about Jaina, and she gave no complaint when he lifted her up and wrapped her legs around his waist, carrying her the few steps to his bed. But if his touch alone was stirring, what followed jarred her to the core: the prince set her gently on the edge of the bed and eased her legs apart, kneeling between them and kissing the delicate skin of her inner thighs.

The mere act did little to move Jaina, who had been through these and similar motions with Arthas several times before. Tonight, however, something new was in his green eyes, an adoration that she hadn't seen before. Tonight, perhaps tonight only, she had brought one of the most powerful men on Azeroth to his knees.

This powerful man eased his fingers in and out of her with practiced grace, curling them in such a way that he grazed the spots inside that only he knew. His lips and tongue glided and teased over her clit, every minute harder and faster, encouraged by the wordless pleas that escaped her with every twist of his fingers. The nearly maddening arousal brought Jaina to a state of wanton mindlessness that she otherwise despised, but tonight, it didn't matter. Tonight she let her hands wander in pursuit of her own pleasure, one slipping between her legs to pull the skin there taut and give Arthas a clear target and the other fondling her breast, pinching her nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Tonight she ground her hips against the prince's face and when she came, moaned his name so loudly that she swore they could hear it in Stormwind.

Arthas' grin when he heard his name was absolutely devilish and remained in place as he shifted them both upwards on the bed, tangling his body with hers. Jaina's limbs felt heavy as they moved, the last notes of her climax still tugging her inward, but she still reached down between them and wrapped her fingers lightly around his cock, teasing it against her slick snatch until he let out a groan of his own, a strained utterance of her name.

Then Jaina grinned, loving the power she held over him in the moment. She slid both hands around him to rest on his ass and push him forward, relishing the sensation of his erection brushing against the still electrified nerves inside of her as he began to move. She lifted her legs to link her ankles behind the small of his back, holding him flush against her, and he rested his forearms just beneath her shoulder blades, covering her mouth in a kiss that proved essential in muffling her cries of delight as the night wore on.

They didn't tire themselves out until just before dawn, and even then, only Arthas slept, his head nestled against Jaina's shoulder as she idly traced her fingers through his hair and over his features in the cool pre-morning light. He looked so alien to her in this light--skin as pale as skimmed milk, hair soft and white in the moonlight, an iciness to him that made her shiver and pull the blankets more tightly around their shoulders to keep out an imagined gust of frigid air.

The sun soon rose, though, and bathed both of them in a warm and golden light. Arthas' hair returned to the color of healthy wheat, his skin regained its familiar flush. Only then did Jaina let her cheek rest against his brow, closing her eyes and exhaling. A smile lifted her features as sleep stole her away. This was her future--nights like this, spent making love to Arthas and enjoying the tenderness that he kept from the rest of the world. This bed would be their retreat from the world until death took them both, as she'd always hoped it would be.

 

 

3.

Over the course of several months, Jaina Proudmoore had lost everything that had once mattered to her, but oddly enough, she felt very little.

Arthas had gone down a dark and terrible path that she couldn't follow, and if the rumors arriving from the Eastern Kingdoms were to be believed, the man she once loved had become little more than a twisted monster.

Under the hand of this twisted monster, the kingdom of Lordaeron had fallen to the undead in such a spectacular way that the ripples of its destruction echoed even here, clear across the Great Sea.

Soldiers, warriors without number, had fallen to the Burning Legion on Mount Hyjal--friends under Jaina's command, allies, companions.

Her own father sought to decimate the work of the orcs as they struggled to rebuild, and she had watched him die for his stubbornness.

Still she felt very little. If anything, in place of the despair and anger that should have ravaged her, she felt hollowed out, as if someone had taken a carving knife to her insides and left nothing but the memory of emotion and a tiredness that seeped to her very core. She had so much work to do--for Theramore, for the people trying to rebuild, for everything--but all Jaina really wanted to do was curl up with a good book and escape for a while.

And so she did just that. A quick incantation ensured that a mirror image of her would remain in Theramore's mage tower for a little more than an hour, and Jaina teleported away, finding herself secluded on one of Durotar's sandy beaches. In the distance, she could see the silhouette of the orcs' new city--Orgrimmar, they were calling it--rising against the sky, but she judged it to be far enough away that none of the city's denizens would find her hiding spot.

She judged incorrectly.

Jaina had laid back, resting her head on the beach and not caring about the sand getting in her robes. She closed her eyes and relished in the feeling of the sun against her skin, but she only enjoyed the peace for a few minutes before the warmth faded into a shadow that caused her to open a single eye, feeling a defensive crackle of magic at her fingertips.

To her surprise, Thrall, the orcs' warchief, stood above her, his own shoulders sagging into a relaxed position from their previously defensive state. "Jaina," he greeted her. "What are you doing here?"

Jaina sighed and let the magic fade from her hands. "I wanted a few minutes to myself," she admitted, patting the sand beside her and taking in the warchief's homespun garb that stood in sharp contrast to his usual armor. "And apparently, I'm not the only one."

Laughter rumbled in Thrall's chest as he sat, knees drawn up and wrists resting against them. "I shouldn't be here," he said. "Orgrimmar needs me, my people need me..."

"...but all you want is five minutes of peace?" Jaina guessed, offering a slanted smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. The orc laughed again in agreement, and Jaina closed her eyes once more. "I'd give anything to spend an afternoon alone with my books again."

"But those days are behind us," Thrall supplied, and Jaina's smile faded. The two sat in silence for several minutes before the orc spoke again. "It's been said, but I still want to thank you again for defending us against your father's--"

"Please don't," Jaina interrupted. The back of her throat burned with bile. "I'm sorry, I just--"

To her surprise, she felt the weight of Thrall's hand against hers. "I know," the orc said.

Jaina opened her eyes again to look at Thrall, who watched her with an expression of concern. Though she'd seen them several times before, she was still struck by the blue of his eyes. They were almost the color of the sky, such a sharp contrast to the tainted red of the rest of his race. An impulse took her then, and she rose up on her knees and lifted her hands to either side of Thrall's face, looking into his eyes for a hint of protest and, finding none, leaned in to kiss him.

The orc's blue eyes provided the catalyst for the kiss to begin, but its continuation stemmed from the strange spark Jaina felt when his eyes closed and his arms wrapped around her middle, lifting her from the sand to straddle his lap. The spark blazed more fiercely than anything she'd felt in the past several days, and she refused to let it go. She fed into it, letting the hem of her robes hike up to around her thighs and grinding against Thrall's growing erection, pushing and pushing, willing the embrace to go further and further until nothing around them mattered or even seemed to exist...

He was the one to pull away, his breath ragged and chest heaving. She saw in those blue eyes the willingness to continue pushing forward, felt it in the pressure of his thumbs against her thighs. She wanted to give in and forget and let whatever happened happen, and she began to close her eyes and do just that, but as she leaned back in towards the warchief, the hollowness returned and stopped her in her tracks.

"I should be getting back," she apologized, easing herself from Thrall's lap. The warchief blinked a few times, his own daze breaking, and nodded after a moment.

"We'll meet again soon, I'm sure," he said, standing and adjusting his clothes as Jaina conjured a portal back home. She nodded and offered him a smile before stepping through the portal into Theramore's mage tower, where her mirror image waited dutifully. She could still see Thrall's image shimmering through the portal as it slowly dwindled and died, and a sigh escaped her throat.

"We will," she answered, though he couldn't hear her, "but not again like this."

 

 

4.

The hour was late when Jaina portaled back to Theramore, her head swimming with thoughts of Ulduar, the Old God imprisoned beneath the frozen continent, and Arthas, always Arthas. It had been years since he'd occupied her thoughts this way, but the Argent Crusade made progress toward the Citadel every day, and it was only a matter of time now before...

Never mind that. The day itself had been long, full of diplomatic missteps and terrible news from all corners. The memory of Varian and Garrosh drawing arms against each other sharpened the headache that already pressed against the corners of her vision, threatening to turn into a constant throbbing if it wasn't soon remedied with sleep or other methods of relaxation.

In that line of thought, and despite the late hour, Jaina muttered a quiet greeting to her guards before locking herself in her bedchamber and drawing herself a bath. She undressed, letting her robes lie in a heap on the floor, and once the water had reached a suitable temperature, sank into it with a drawn out sigh. Instantly, the frozen ache that seemed to reach her very marrow began to dissolve, and Jaina closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the tub, willing herself to relax.

Her thoughts drifted as the water worked its magic and relaxation began to take hold. She wondered, vaguely, if Mag'har orcs were similar in length and girth to orcs who had been affected by the demon's blood and remembered that day on a beach so long ago, that day with Thrall and the pressure of his hard, thick cock between her legs...

Jaina shook her head, banishing the thoughts that followed, though she felt a warmth radiating outward from her snatch that hadn't been there moments before. Giving in and exploring the fantasy ( _Light, she could almost feel those two thick cocks between her legs, the heat of their bodies almost crushing her..._ ) would make future diplomatic endeavors more than a little awkward, an awkwardness that Jaina couldn't afford, not with so many other dangers pressing on them from all sides.

Still, she'd created in herself an itch that needed to be scratched and so let her hands wander under the water until they found the trimmed blonde curls between her legs. Jaina had never been much for vanity, form over function, but she liked to keep herself neat and clean, even if she was the only one who saw and appreciated the fruits of those efforts. And she did appreciate, very much so in this moment as her fingers parted the curls, teasing over the pink flush between and slipping neatly inside, curling and twisting in a practiced motion.

The index finger of her opposite hand busied itself stimulating her clit in gradually faster circles, and Jaina let her mind wander again. Her thoughts remained vague this time, not focusing on any one fantasy for very long but trailing between arousing ideas and daydreams of which she didn't dare tell a single soul.

_What would have happened on that beach, if I'd just let go? How would Thrall's cock have felt inside of me? Would he have made gentle love like a man or is orc sexuality rougher and more savage..._ She could almost feel the heat of the sand on her knees, his hands in her hair...

...Kaldorei women had such a fierce and savage beauty to them, moved with such smooth grace and ease. _Relations between Kaldorei women are frequent and common, with their men in the Dream for millennia at a time. I've never been with a woman, but_... She imagined a hot tongue tracing patterns against her clit and long, elegant fingers working in and out of every orifice...

_...I'll bet Varian would see reason more easily if I would just_... She was on the throne in Stormwind Keep, on the king's lap with her robes hiked up so that he could grab her arse, one hand on each cheek, holding onto her as she rode him, arching his back, stumbling over her name...

...was the throne room in Quel'thalas so different from that of Stormwind? What would have changed if she had told Kael'thas yes? Quel'dorei--Sin'dorei now--were notoriously hedonistic and, she heard, lavish lovers. _Sometimes, I wish I had said yes, just to see_... What sorts of pleasures might the prince have drawn out in her? His fingers with centuries of experience, teasing her muscles, the nerves just beneath the skin, the warmth returned to his voice as he begged, _Stay with me, Jaina. Choose me, not Arthas_...

... _Arthas_. It always came back to him. It would always come back to him. She hated herself for the fantasy, but it was the one that made her come the fastest. _What will we find in Icecrown Citadel? Will you still be yourself? Will you remember me?_ He wasn't dead in her mind, not yet, not the way most people saw him, and she imagined stumbling into his inner sanctum and seeing recognition in his eyes. His cold lips would crush hers, drag along her neck and shoulders, coating every bit of skin they touched in agonizing ice. He would have his way with her, and she would give in, no matter the cost, no matter the cost. The great prince would kneel before her again, twisting her mind as he seduced her body, leaving lingering kisses between her thighs. She could hear his voice again, _Jaina-- I've missed you. I've waited for this day, Jaina. Be my slave, be my queen_ , and she heard herself saying aloud, "Yes, _oh_ yes."

Beneath the warm water, Jaina's fingers worked at a frenzied pace, in and out and around, her teeth clenching and legs trembling until one last twist ensured her release, pleasure crashing and cresting over her, and then the delightful heaviness that followed, every last bit of tension fading from her muscles as the bathwater lapped at the edges of the tub.

 

 

5.

"I don't want to be like Arthas," Jaina said, not realizing until Kalec turned his head to look at her that she'd spoken aloud. A hint of color came to her cheeks, and she pushed a lock of stark white hair out of her face and repeated herself, "I don't want to be like him."

After Orgrimmar--after _everything_ \--Kalec had taken her far away from it all, not quite to Dalaran but to a safe and warm spot on the coast of Northrend, safe and secluded from most. In truth, Jaina had been too tired the whole flight to place them with any more accuracy than that, but she trusted Kalecgos and felt comforted when he wound his arms around her and pulled her closer.

"You're not like him," he said. "You made the right choice. You defended your people and harmed no innocents in the process. Jaina..."

He lifted her face so that she could look at him, and she had to blink several times, the tears that she'd been holding in for so long finally spilling over her cheeks, blinding and glaring and oversaturated with mana. "I'm _not_ like him," she agreed, some of the fierceness of the last few days reentering her voice. "I won't be like him. I won't, I--"

Kalec made a shushing noise and eased her head to rest against his shoulder, where she relaxed and let herself cry, surprised that she still had tears left to release, surprised that she hadn't sobbed herself dry at the dissipation of her apprentice Kinndy's corpse. Kalec smoothed her hair back and kissed her forehead and whispered words of encouragement until she fell into a dreamless sleep that seemed unending.

But it wasn't unending, and when she awoke, it was dark and cold out, the green and pink of the northern lights dancing in the skies above her. Kalec's hands were at her waist, and Jaina realized that she'd latched her legs and arms around him in her sleep, and the poor dragon wore an expression of such concern and confusion that Jaina snorted and started to laugh for the first time in what felt like years. This drew a smile out of Kalec, who brushed his fingers against her cheek and didn't pull back in the least, and after several minutes leaned closer to cover her mouth in a tender and breathtaking kiss.

As his hands worked their way down her body, shifting her over so that she lay on her back on a bed of moss, Jaina was grateful for Kalec's presence and gentleness. His skin had an almost alien quality to it, a sheen that hinted at the scales of his dragon form and a tingling warmth she could only assume was from the arcane energy inherent to his race. It was jarring enough that she couldn't lose herself to the past with him, and she didn't want to. She wanted the now. She wanted the future.

Their embrace drew on, and Jaina felt Kalec's kisses becoming more feral and mingling with grazes of his teeth against her skin as they drew down the curve of her neck and the rise of her breasts. At one point, he bit down almost hard enough to draw blood, and she let out a quiet cry that froze him in place. He exhaled raggedly and apologized, dropping tender kisses on the wound, and after that, his touch was impossibly light until Jaina admitted--hopelessly aroused and frustrated--that she'd enjoyed the bite. She knew she would be bruised the following day, but she didn't mind it in the least, and tried to reciprocate, eliciting hisses and growls from Kalec with each kiss, with each bite.

She took the initiative then, trailing her hands down his sides and front to undo the ties on his pants and slip them down to his knees, revealing an erection that she found pleasingly human in appearance, if a bit thicker than she would otherwise have expected. She ran her fingers along the length, smiling as she drew helpless groans from him and feeling as powerful as she had with the Focusing Iris in her hands, if not more so.

Kalec's fingers had busied themselves with undoing the front of her tattered robes and slipping them from her shoulders so that she lay bare in the cold night air. Jaina half worried that she'd freeze, but the worry passed in an instant as Kalec's hands and mouth covered every inch of her with a blooming warmth she'd never experienced before, the sensation like an awakening that reached deep within.

When he finally entered her, Jaina was pleased to find that the strangely radiant warmth of his skin was now inside of her as well, that it only built with each undulating thrust. Kalec lifted her hands above her head and linked their fingers, and after a while, she could feel the sharpness of his nails digging into the back of her hands and something more draconic in his grunts and growls of pleasure. She arched her back towards him, craving further intimacy, and he obliged this, releasing her hands to wrap both arms around her middle and hold her flush against him.

She sensed that he could have finished long before she did, but still Kalec held back, waiting for Jaina to reach her peak, and as she drew close, she bit down on his shoulder, hoping he would be encouraged to do the same, and he was. Their climaxes came surprisingly close together, and even when the last shudders had been shaken from them, they lay intertwined, Kalec still inside of her, brushing his fingers across her bare skin.

Dawn was creeping over the horizon, the future looming. Tomorrow, they would bring the Focusing Iris to Dalaran and figure out what to do about Garrosh and his Horde, but tonight, Jaina slept in Kalec's arms, content for once in her life to leave the past in the past.


End file.
